Masks
by insaneschitsoid
Summary: Original storyline belongs to B2J. What if Harry had been abused by his relatives, instead of neglected? What if, come time for Hogwarts, he barely knew who he was anymore? NO SEXUAL ABUSE/SEX!; HG/RW cannon pairing - Harry has no pairing in this.
1. Chapter 1

This story only belongs to me in the essance that I have the save-file on my computer and I typed it: THIS FIC IS HOW I THINK THE ONESHOT FIC Masks BY B2J WOULD BE AS A MULTI-CHAPTER PLOT!!!! I RECOMEND READING Masks **BEFORE** YOU READ THIS FIC, SO YOU CAN GET A FEEL FOR WHAT I'M TRYING TO TYPE.

I have the express permission from B2J to type this up; if I didn't I wouldn't be typing this and I'd have given up trying to a year ago after I first asked B2J.

Harry Potter and Masks are not mine and any and all credit goes to B2J, who will be 'monitoring,' for lack of a better word, each chapter; if B2J doesn't like it, it will be gone.

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_Death._

_There are all kinds of Death, really. There's suicide, killing, and then just plain Death to name a few. In these entries, I'll be talking about those three catagories._

_First we'll look at Plain Death._

_Plain Death, simply put, is when you die of either old age or desease, and has no meaning whatsoever other than your life is over._

_The second, and one of my favorites, is Suicide._

_There are many different kinds of Suicide;_

_Painless: Killing one's self with only the knowledge that you'll no longer exsist._

_Painless Suicide is commonly used by those of higher status, though not uncommon among the 'lower class' people, when they realize or start to think that they either a) Aren't doing much with their lives, even though they're probably wealthy/powerful/popular, or b) Are making people miserable by doing what they're doing. Usually these suicudes are accomplished by a shot to the heart or brain or, sometimes, a drug overdose of some kind, prescription or illegal. Then there's the other option for their suicide._

_C) They are no longer happy for whatever reason and no longer wish to live._

_That brings us to our next kind of Suicide: Worthless._

_The title Worthless Suicide referrs only to the emotion(s) the suicidal persons are experiencing/going through when they decide to kill themselves. They feel totally worthless, pathetic, or, as with option C from Painless Suicide, unhappy with their lives/unhappy in general. Because the title is only effected by suicidal persons, the suicidal persons themselves are given the title, at which it is instead "Worthless Suicidals."_

_When Worthless Suicidals kill themselves there are more reasons than in Painless Suicide, as every human is different in the ways they think and feel. Worthless Suicidals will kill themselves for a) They or their lives are unhappy/feel empty, as mentioned before, b) they or something in their lives has gone terribly wrong in their eyes and suicide is seen as the only option, c) They are/have been neglected and/or abused at some time in their lives and have snapped from the pressure, or d) They believe they have descovered the meaning of life and, now feeling insignificant or all-too powerful, they have decided their lives need to end desperately._

_Unlike with Painless suicide, Worthless Suicidals have reasons that are very vague and can mean anything. D), for example, which has two possible ways of happening: they will either feel so powerful that they know something everyone else doesn't that they'll feel alone, cornered, and often, but not always, paranoid, and will kill themselves so they don't have to 'suffer' with the knowledge, OR they'd feel tiny or unimportant after finding the meaning of life and no longer can/wish to bare the burdon of knowing they don't matter._

_The second brings us to our third brand: Painfull Suicide._

_Painfull Suicide has one reason and one reason only: the suicidal persons feel nothing matters anymore and the void they feel is only filled when they become hurt/injured in some way, usually found out by accident when their 'numb' selves stopped caring what they did and did something, for example chopping vegetables or cutting paper, and nicked or sliced themselves and found the pain distracted them from the 'void,' and they will eventually end up killing themselves by going too far, whether by bloodloss, the most common, or by some other **painful** method, such as suffication or damage caused by severe trauma to bones and/or the vital organs they surround._

_All methods are extremely painfull either way, though the suicidal persons may not feel or realize that the 'filling feeling' is pain, thus the title Painfull Suicide. My second favorite._

_Finally, for this lesson, there's Heedless Suicide._

_Heedless Suicide, or "Reasonless Suicide," is just that: reasonless. The persons involved just decided to die one day and killed themselves, usually painfully but not always. (Drug overdose, etc.)_

_Now, we'll look into Killing, which is, ultimately, my most favorite of the three subjects._

_Vengence Killing/Killing for Revenge: killing someone who has disgraced or betrayed the killing persons, called 'homocidal persons,' for which the only use is for making the homocidal persons feel at ease or better about what was wrong, most oftenly because they are now absolutely sure the killed persons, 'victims,' will no longer be a problem/cause the problem again._

_Then there is killing out of spite, which is titled Old-Fashioned Homocide, or just Homocide._

_Homocide is killing someone/someone you hate for no reason other than you wanted to make someone else mad. This by far is my least favorite of all catagories, except Plain Death, because the homocidal persons are usually immediately arrested or killed by the infuriated person, who will then become a Worthless Suicidal mark B and will kill themselves, rendering the whole thing pointless._

_That is called Heedless, or Boredom Killing, which are actually two different things that, when all is added up, equal the same, such as two plus two equals four and then three plus one, which also equals four, though with completely different numbers._

_Boredom Killing is killing a victim for no reason. At all. You wanted something to do, so you just killed the victim because they were there; it is the the other deadly twin sister, her sibling being Heedless Suicide._

_Heedless Killing can sometimes but not often be linked to Vengence Killing, but instead has gone wrong and the victim the homocidal persons killed has no actual value to their target and the homocidal persons' efforts are **heedless**, or, for a better word, pointless._

_Finally, which also ends our short lesson, is Sexual Killing, or 'Fetish Killing.'_

_Sexual Killing is a homocidal person or homocidal persons going after specific or random targets because they are aroused/enticed/"riled up"/"hot for" killing, blood, or sometimes even cannablism or obsession with human organs._

_This is an inhumane concept and even if I was being forced to teach you more about it I wouldn't, as it goes against my morals, and as such this is all that will be said concerning it._

_The reason I'm telling you all of this is simply because I have been contemplating Death a lot lately, and this is the only way I can tell anyone without being sent to St. Mungos' or without slipping up and telling my friends... which would result in me being sent immediately to St. Mungos'._

The black haired boy dipped his quill in the ink bottle, filled with silver Unicorn's blood instead of ink, and smirked when he thought of what he'd had to pay to get it, the first of his two-hundred bottle set of "Magical Creature Blood; The Ink of The Powerful and Dark." He'd shrunk it the moment the four shady characters who'd delivered it had verified the authenticity of his six-hundred galleons, three for each vial, with the illegal, unregistered wand he'd perchased on his unknown invisible visit to Knockturn Alley that summer.

He read over what he'd written, making sure he'd made no mistakes. His smirk widened when he realized his own thoughts and musings were fourteen inches, about what Snape called for with every small homework assignment he gave out on his good days... if they could even be called "good," considering he's always so sour.

His smirk turned into a frown when he remembered suddenly why he'd been contemplating Death; last year's Tri-Wizard Cup. He'd come to terms with it over the summer and now he didn't much think of anything aside from Cedric dying as bad.

'Not even Voldemort's resurection.' He thought, smirking.

His emerald eyes glinted eerily from silver back to emerald in the light from the candle on his desk. He didn't have to see them to know; he'd felt his magic stir to make it happen since the thoughts had first started, and it happened every time he thought of Death.

He put his signature at the bottom before blowing out and re-hiding the candle in the secret drawer under the desk, along with his matchbox-sized ink trunk and his thirty long, empty rolls of parchment, held in a small jewlery box along with a locket he'd found and put his parent's moving pictures in.

He crawled into bed after shrinking the now written-on scroll, sealed with just a piece of tape, into the jewlery box he'd be packing in his school trunk tomorrow. He was out just as his head hit the pillow, the last sight he saw being the digital clock on his night stand reading 1:18am.

_Signed,_  
_Harry Potter:_  
_The-Boy-who-Wouldn't-Die;_  
_Griffindor's-Golden-Snake;_  
_The-Newest-Dark-Pain-In-Dumbledoor's-Arse_


	2. Chapter 2

_Dear Diary, _

_Mood: Apathetic. _

Harry snickered quietly to himself, so as not to wake his dorm mates, and crossed it out to begin his _real_ entry.

_Dear Journal, _

_Alright, all joking aside, instead of a lesson, as it's just our first day back, we'll just write what's been happening. _

_The day after the last entry Slave took over so Vernon and Petunia wouldn't beat us. (Petunia is my aunt and, by marriage, Vernon is my uncle; relatives by blood, though not by much else.) After a while I think Slave must have gotten tired, I'm not sure, but Dudley came by and Slave was unable to fight Instinct and he started running away after the first blow to the ribs; normally Slave is strong enough to last until the eighth or ninth blow. _

_For the next however many days -I'm never actually in control, so I'm not sure how long it really was- it was the same, though Slave went back to his usual self, and then came the three days Petunia and Vernon allow us to leave to buy my school supplies. I was allowed out for the first time in months to call the Knight Bus, since I'm the one who knows how, and Mouse took over once we were in the Leaky Cauldron and all the way to Gringotts, where for a short time Respect was allowed out so as not to offend the goblins; Mouse took control back as soon as we were out the doors, though, and I got the distinct impression that Respect wanted to stay out longer. Anyway, Mouse got the shopping done that day, but once everyone figured that out I had about two seconds to persuade one of us to stop Dark from further entering Knockturn Alley, as going in during the day would be sure to rouse suspicion. _

_I didn't say anything when she later went in that night because she was so impatient, though I'm still not quite sure where she went as the others won't tell me. _

_Anyway, time passed until it was the day Vernon drove us to King's Cross to drop us off. As always we walked to the barrier between platforms nine and ten, the one I like to call Auto-Pilot and Dark calls 'Default' in control for the moment, and walked through with Hedwig and all my supplies, making our way to an empty compartment and putting my trunk up. Hedwig was let out to fly herself to Hogwarts, as always, and before she left she gave her usual concerned hoot; 'Harry, why don't you stop this?' I'm assuming she wonders, as when Auto-Pilot says, 'Harry isn't here now, only during the night.' she gives a sad, meaningless hoot and flies off. _

_I don't like making Hedwig sad, but I can't help it; I'm never in control, just like Auto-Pilot said. Only now, when they're all asleep and I'm struggling to remain otherwise to write this, am I in control, and I'm surprised Dark even allows it. _

_Anyway, not much else than that, since that was earlier today. The Boy Who Lived, the weakest of all of us, only stronger than me, took over once Ron and Hermione showed up. To be honest, I don't really know why he's still friends with Ron; every time something out of our favor happens, or we're accused of something awful, Ron is literally the first one to shun or mistrust us; first year he didn't really have a chance to, because nothing against me really came up, but in second year he jumped headfirst into the idea that we were the heir of Slytherin, which was obviously bonkers, third year he didn't help at all and, it turns out, had been harboring a dangerous supposedly-dead-illegal rat animagus who was personally responsible for my parents' deaths! Fourth year the bloody wanker __shunned__ us outright because some loon using a pollyjuice potion stuck my name in a flaming bloody cup! And now, we come to fifth year, where the little -er, taller,- bastard __still__ doesn't trust BWL! Makes some of us wonder what the hell will happen __this__ year! Probably something to do with that ugly toad-woman, Um... uh... Um-something. _

_Well, Dark wants to sleep too, which is freaking me out since she doesn't sleep during the night -I wonder if she's got something planned?- so it's time to hide the evidence and hit the sack before I pass out right here and you get discovered. _

_Signed,  
The Original,  
Prisoner of His Own Mind,  
One Tired SOB,  
Harry James Potter._

Harry yawned, mentally telling Dark to hold on a second before signing the entry, shrinking and hiding it, and crawling into bed.

"Harry, mate, get up! It's time for breakfast!"

Harry groaned, rolling over and putting the pillow over his head. He didn't want to get up; he had full control when he was asleep, and he liked that feeling. Besides, the last few weeks had proven to him that Ron was going to wake him up at the crack of dawn every day; breakfast didn't start for an hour. He felt the tell-tale presence of the BWL mask, though, and knew that he'd never last in a power-struggle with even him. He reluctantly left the mind, leaving it wide open for BWL to take it for his own. He scowled at how pathetic he sounded when agreeing to get up and decided to take a nap, grateful to Dark when she gave him her spot in the very back to sleep.

He was awoken unpleasantly when the feeling of masks exchanging made him stir, made even more unpleasant when he realized it was _Her_ that was taking over. He _hated _Her; the goodie-two-shoes-know-it-all-innocent-"everyone-please-like-me" little bitch. Merlin, if she wasn't one of the strongest masks she'd have been out the first time she'd shown her design!

"It makes the target of the spell unable to resist obeying the caster's any given command, right?" He heard Her ask using his voice.

Ten points were added to Gryffindor and he sneered when he felt Her re-enter his mind and let BWL take back control. Dark patted him on the head and let him know she'd wake him up when it was time for Potions class.

True to her word, which just made him more suspicious about her motives, Dark woke him right before Potions started so he could watch BWL be made a fool of; it always made him laugh. Speak of the devil; he snickered when right at the beginning BWL, without knowing what he was doing, stopped stirring the potion to look up the next step in the book, when it was right on the board. He laughed louder when Severus noticed the abrupt change in color of the liquid and rounded on BWL.

"Potter!" He yelled, quickly vanishing the now bubbling mixture before it exploded. "You imbecile! Twenty points from Gryffindor for your utter stupidity! And you!" He said, pointing to his partner for today, Seamus Finnegan. "Why didn't you tell him not to stop stirring? Or even add the next ingredient yourself? An additional twenty points from Gryffindor for _your_ stupidity and blatant disregard for both your own safety and the safety of the entire room! Now do it again and do it _right!"_

As the potions master stalked away, looking quite like a bat as he did so, Harry was laughing heartily in the back of his mind, knowing just as everyone else in both his head and the actual class that the man actually meant the _room_ itself.

**You think you can do better than your mask?** Dark asked, smirking.

His mind became completely quiet at her question, no one having ever asked before then. Even BWL had heard and came back into his mind, cutting off their access to the outside world; that meant his body was probably staring wide-eyed and expressionless at the air in front of him.

'Of course I could,' He said, frowning as he pointed to BWL. 'Even _Auto-Pilot_ could if he took over!'

Dark's wide smirk was the only warning he got when he was suddenly aware of everything in the outside world; Seamus' hand was waving in front of his face, which he quickly ducked before anyone could see his black eyes.

"Are you alri'te 'Arry?" He heard him ask.

"F-fine." He stuttered, glancing quickly at the board to see the first instruction; put a cup of water in the cauldron.

He quickly and quietly did so, adding the extra Fire Salamander slime to it and making sure to keep stirring as he looked up the next ingredient. He went on with this process while Seamus talked to Dean, both completely ignoring their respective partners to talk amongst themselves. When the potion was a light blue, almost white, he turned off the fire and stopped stirring to let it sit, watching the clock on the wall until two minutes had gone by before adding three red porcupine quills and a tea-spoon of powdered wolf bone. He tapped the cauldron lightly on the side, via Dark's random instruction, and once it turned blood red like it was supposed to he used the tongs to dip two empty crystal phials into the 24-Hour Sanity potion. He wiped the access potion from the outsides and corked the bottles.

**Shake them for a minute, Harry.** Dark whispered, confusing him.

'Why are you telling me to do stuff?' He asked, shaking them like he was told lest she suddenly decide to take over and do it herself.

**Plans.**

Harry stood up, surprising Seamus and Dean, and walked to the front of the class to turn the potion in on the desk. Once they were safely settled he quickly gave back control to BWL and retreated to his borrowed corner to watch.

"Here you are, professor Snape." He said, turning to go back to his seat only to be met with the shocked eyes of the entire room. Harry hit himself in the face; he'd been working for only ten minutes! "What?"

Looking back at the desk, he found only the two vials of potion he'd set on the desk; not even Malfoy or Hermione had managed to complete the assignment yet. BWL gulped, turning to look at Snape's incredulous face. He was in the back, having previously been berating Neville for screwing up again. Harry knew, in that moment, that Dark had won her game... but also that they were soon all going to die a painful death because he'd managed to complete a complex, delicate potion before Severus' godson.

Snape stalked quickly down the aisle, heading right for him, and Dark struggled to keep BWL from backing out of control.

"Potter," Snape snapped. Harry was deeply surprised that the man didn't _sound _angry, though BWL was too weak to tell the difference. "Are you _quite sure_ you've finished the potion correctly, as told?" BWL nodded. "I suppose Finnegan did most of the work, then? No?" When BWL shook his head negetive, he turned to Seamus, who also shook his head. "Well then," He began, sounding a bit confused. Again, no one else picked up on it, besides probably Draco. "I'm now to assume that the potion may not have been completed properly. Potter, you are to sample your phial at the end of class." Snape smirked, composure fully regained. "That way it won't be a problem to carry you to the infirmary, should _anything_ go wrong."

BWL scurried quickly back to his seat, which he promptly tried to make swallow him at the stares he received.

Harry sighed, seeing the clock in the edge of BWL's vision the remaining half-hour of class. Dark said she'd wake him in twenty minutes; he ignored her and went to sleep. He gulped when Dark woke him up, though her confident smirk made his own confidence raise a little.

**Remember, I have plans.** She said, before turning to watch through BWL's eyes. He was staring at the desk, where numerous pink, orange, and even a yellow pair of potion vials sat on one side; his sat on the other side entirely.

"Potter, I believe it's time for you to test your potion now." Snape called from his desk, motioning to said vials; they were the only red ones.

BWL gulped and rose from his seat, walking reluctantly to the front where Dark suddenly forced Harry into control. Harry ducked his head as quick as he could, but his hopes of Severus not seeing his eyes held no ground when he heard the man's breath hitch. He sighed.

"Well," He grumbled, picking up one of the vials. "All things considered it can only help, can't it?"

**After it wears off, Harry,** Dark said quickly, making him pause to listen. **I hope you'll have learned my lesson.**

Harry stared at the potion for a second longer before drinking the dose of it. It tasted... curiously like a strawberry tart. He took a few breaths; he could still hear the others in his mind, still feel Dark's smirk. He'd barely put the phial down when the bell signaled noon and time for lunch- then all the noise in his head was suddenly gone. His hands flew to his ears, the sudden silence blaring loudly in his ears. He felt a whine leave his throat.

"Potter, get-!"

Harry clutched his hair in his hands; it was too loud! Too loud! Everything was too loud, too clear! His masks were gone- all gone! He curled in on himself, trying to block out Snape's impossibly loud voice, and the almost as loud murmurs of the students, all of which still had yet to leave.

"-stop acting out-!"

He whined and flinched when someone's hand touched his arm, putting unwanted pressure on a bruise his sleeves hid; his head hit the stone floor, and he felt relief when the vibration traveled through his mind. He hit his head against the floor again, getting the same result, but before he could do it again his shoulders were picked up off the ground, and his black eyes snapped open when he felt Snape shaking him.

"Potter, stop this right now! I'm taking you to the infirmary this instant, something obviously went wrong with your potion! Weasley, Granger! Go inform Madam Pomfrey! Potter, stop struggling-"

"No!" Harry yelled, trying to get free; he needed the sound back! "Let go! It's too loud, it's too loud!"

"What's too loud, Potter?" He heard Malfoy yell from across the room, though it sounded right next to him. The boy sounded downright hysterical- but his throat was strained with fear.

"The quiet!" He yelled, foregoing struggling in favor of shaking his head quickly; it made some sound, and he was holding onto that sound. "It's too loud!"

Then Snape let go, and he heard him shout a spell before he was out like a light, laid out on the floor with a pained expression on his face.

He was dreaming. That much he knew. None of his masks usually made it a habit of turning into a snake and then attacking Ron's dad while Voldemort watched in the background... though Dark _does_ do unknown things when he's asleep...? He continued to watch Arthur Weasley get bitten for about a minute, when suddenly everything went black, and Dark was standing on nothing in front of him.

**Did you learn your lesson, Harry?** She asked, smirking triumphantly because she already knew.

Harry curled up on himself, whimpering a little until Dark hugged him. He nodded quickly; he felt himself waking up, and he didn't want there to be quiet anymore. He wanted to go back to the back of their mind and sleep, while the others took over.

**The outside is a scary place, isn't it Harry?** Dark asked, her voice like over-sweet honey as she pet his hair. **That's why **_**we're **_**here, Harry; to keep it away from you. That's why you made us in the first place. With us here, you're safe from dreams like the one just now about Mr. Weasley; from the prying eyes of those who want to rape your mind like Dumbledore; from the loneliness you'd experience without us.**

Harry could only nod, lulled into comfort by her voice and the facts she laid out. He was faintly aware of his body waking up; he could hear Madam Pomfrey telling Snape the Sanity potion hadn't been at all flawed; heard Dumbledore assuring Hermione and Ron that 'Harry was going to be fine.' But, most welcomed, he heard the oddly satisfied voices of his masks. He opened his black eyes for a second, making everyone stop and stare at him, waiting; he smiled and closed his eyes again, giving control to Auto-Pilot as Dark and Her, joined by The Crying Woman and The Boy who Lived, led him to the deepest part of the back of his mind, to where he couldn't even see the outside world through the rest of the hundreds of masks he'd made; right here in this spot.

Auto-Pilot opened his green eyes and smiled at everyone. "What?" He asked. "Is everything okay, guys?"

Hermione, looking up from crying into Ron's shoulder, looked uncertainly at him.

"H-Harry?" She asked. "Are you alrigh-"

"Harry Potter isn't coming back." Dark said, abruptly taking over and using Harry's deeper voice. She locked her red eyes on Hermione, smirking when she looked about to faint. "He's asleep now and he's never waking up; he's happy." She turned to Dumbledore, who looked about to have a heart attack. "I'm not Voldemort, you old fool; I'm Dark; Dark Harry."

She chuckled at the noise Snape and Dumbledore made before pulling Auto-Pilot back into control; once things settled down a little, _then _it would be safe for BWL to take over again. She went to where Harry was. She heard Auto-Pilot introduce himself and chuckled, brushing her creator's hair with her fingers to make his sleep deepen.

**Now you know why you're the weakest even though you're the original, Harry**. She said to his dreaming form. **Because you needed us to be stronger in the first place.**


	3. Chapter 3

_Life. _

_Everyone in the world, muggle and wizard alike, has wondered about the meaning of Life at least once before they'd died. What is Life? Why do we live in the first place? _

_These are questions I cannot answer. No one has the answer; not even the most powerful or most intelligent. Some say the meaning of Life is love; to love and be loved in return. Those who do not receive love, however, know this to be false, as if love __had__ been the meaning of Life, then they wouldn't be a part of it. __They__ say the meaning of Life is to die; to do what you can do while you can do it and then resign yourself to Death. _

_I believe __this__ is the only truth: The meaning of Life is to live. To live, and then once you're done with that, the meaning of Life is to begin Death. One never stops living; the universal way to say someone has started Death is not 'He/She has stopped being alive.', though some people __do__ say it like that. The universal way to say it is 'He/She is dead.', just as we universally say 'He/She is alive.' instead of 'He/She is living.' _

_I am alive. _

_I am dead. _

_I am both of them. _

_How am I both? I died when I made my first mask, while she lived on to be my body without me, on the outside; I sat in the back, creating more and more when the situation called for it. Like all humans, especially children, are prone to do, though, I lost track of why I initially made my masks the way they are. I tried to live without my masks for a day; if someone from the outside hadn't intervened, I'd have ended up making all of us dead. My first mask set me straight, though; she helped me remember that I died long ago, that I'd given my life away to her and the others so that I wouldn't have to live on the outside anymore, so that I could be safe on the inside. _

_I gave up my Life the day I gave it to my Darkest mask. _

_I started my Death the day she helped me remember that. _

_Signed,  
Harry James Potter,  
Three-Year-Old Abused Child._


End file.
